


Of things to come

by Servena



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dreams, Gen, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a cold night, the stark children dream of things to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of things to come

**Bran**

Bran was the first to have the dream. The images rose from the black of his consciousness, one replacing the other in swift succession: He was falling out of the window of the broken tower, the ground rushing up to meet him – A man with a black hood held his father‘s sword Ice, dripping with blood – His mother was pulled out of a river by a giant wolf - Robb was riding on a horse with Greywind’s head stitched to his body –

He was sitting upright in his bed, drawing deep breaths and drenched in sweat. Summer lifted his head from the fur at the foot of the bed and whined.

“It was just a dream”, he whispered. “Just a dream, Summer.”

The candle on his nightstand had almost burned down, but Summer’s eyes shone bright as he watched him.

Usually, when Bran had a nightmare, he yelled for his mother so she would sing him back to sleep. But this time, he just moved closer to his wolf‘s warm body and closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to tell her about the dream.

 

**Sansa**

Sansa dreamed of Lady. She was kneeling beside her and brushing her fur until it was shining like silk. “You are going to be the prettiest wolf that ever was”, she said softly and stroked her head. Not like Nymeria, whose fur was as wild as Arya’s hair.

Lady pushed her wet nose against her arm and moved her tongue over her skin. She giggled.

When the silhouette of a man blocked out the sun, she looked up. He seemed familiar, but his face was obscured by shadow.  He knelt down and put a chain around Lady’s neck.  

“No”, she shouted, “No.”

She watched the light reflect on the sharp blade as it pierced Lady’s throat. There was a high whine and then nothing.

When the man turned around, she looked at her father’s face.

Sansa was too grown up to yell for her mother. Instead she cried herself back to sleep.

 

**Arya**

Arya woke when she slammed face first onto the cold stone floor. She gasped and looked around frantically, disoriented. Her legs were tangled in the fur blanket and it took a moment before she managed to free herself.

It was cold and dark in her room, the candle on her nightstand had burnt out a while ago. Only the pale moonlight falling through the small window illuminated her surroundings. She shivered. Her dream was still close, lurking in the shadows beneath her bed.

She wished Nymeria was here instead of sleeping downstairs as punishment for bad behaviour.

Tears started forming in her eyes and she rubbed her sleeve over her face angrily. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, she didn’t cry.

She picked herself up, then she silently slid out of the door.

 

**Jon**

Jon dreamed of blue eyes in the darkness. It was cold, the kind of cold that cut through fur and wool right down to the bones. His breath formed a white cloud in front of him and his freezing fingers were clutching a longsword. Ghost was beside him, teeth bare, snarling.

Then there was fire – a breath of red and heat, scorching his skin, melting his bones until there was nothing but white.

A knock on the door woke him up.

“Who’s there?”, he asked, voice still rough from sleep. The door creaked open, and a small shadow slipped through.

“Arya”, he said, surprised. She pulled the door shut behind her and stepped into the room. She was barefoot, he noticed, and there was a bruise forming on her right cheek.

He sat up in his bed. “What happened?”

“I fell out of bed”, she said matter-of-factly. “Can I sleep here?”

He sighed. “Your mother wouldn’t like that.”

She didn’t answer, so he lifted the furs to allow her to slip under them. He waited until she had settled next to him to ask: “So why did you fall out of bed?”

“I had a dream”, she mumbled.

He looked at her, but in the dim light he couldn’t make out the expression on her face. “And what did you dream of?”, he asked softly.

There’s a moment of silence between them that stretches to fill the whole room.

“I dreamt you died”, she said quietly and buried her wet face in the crook of his neck.


End file.
